


Extra Credit

by ArielAquarial



Series: Family of Three [27]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anniversary, Husbands, M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Professor Castiel (Supernatural), Sexual Roleplay, Teacher/Student Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:48:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27425206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArielAquarial/pseuds/ArielAquarial
Summary: “Hey, babe. Who has the kids?”“Mr. Winchester…” Cas rumbled, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. “You’re cutting it close. My office hours are almost over.”Dean frowned at him, confused. That didn’t even remotely answer his question. What did he—Oh…Oh!Or, the moment Dean has been waiting for has finally arrived.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Family of Three [27]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1127873
Comments: 20
Kudos: 172





	Extra Credit

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to hold off on posting this for a little longer to space them out a little more, but my wonderful beta reminded me that everyone could probably use smut right now!

Dean always thought they’d do something a little more exciting for their third anniversary. Maybe a nice bed and breakfast, or if Dean had his way, a long road trip. After all, statistically most marriages that are destined to fail usually do so before the two-year mark, so making it to three years was kind of a big deal. Unfortunately for them, the big day landed on a Thursday. They briefly considered taking the day off and celebrating it, Thursday or not, but if they took Thursday off, they may as well take Friday off too, and at that point, a four-day weekend for the sake of an anniversary started to feel a little silly, especially since they weren’t going anywhere. With two kids, it was hard to find someone willing to watch both of them so they could go off and fuck like rabbits. Overnight was the best their friends and family could do, maybe two nights if they begged.

He couldn’t blame them. Jack was fully embracing the terrible twos and Claire was getting increasingly harder to put to bed. Not to mention, someone would have to take care of the chickens, Cas would have to plan a week of at-home study for multiple classes, and Dean would have to convince his boss they could do without him for a week. It was a lot.

So on their anniversary, instead of spending time with his husband, Dean was at the shop doing oil changes and other menial tasks. Cas wasn’t faring any better. Since they decided not to celebrate until the weekend, Cas somehow thought it would be a good idea to schedule a quiz this morning. That meant a day full of grading only to come home burnt out and annoyed with his students. Dean would tell him to blow grading off, but Cas was known for having a quick turn-around for posting grades and he would never tarnish his good name like that.

He sent a few texts to Cas throughout the day, called to wish him a happy anniversary, and told him ‘I love you’ about a million times, but it wasn’t the same. Maybe tonight they’d still be able to have some celebratory anniversary sex, but it wasn’t looking likely what with Cas’s inevitable stack of quizzes to grade. Oh well, they’d order some pizza, watch a movie, and then on _Saturday,_ they’d get to go out to eat at a nice restaurant and do the whole shebang.

By the time he was able to clock out, he was more than ready to go home. The house was quiet. Too quiet. Normally, he’d come home to Cas trying his hardest to get Claire to work on her take-home assignments, and keeping Jack entertained so he wouldn’t bother his sister. It was usually loud and crazy, and half the time he came home to a frenzied husband and messy house. This time, the living room was clean and empty, with no kids in sight. He was concerned for a moment, but quickly noticed the light coming from the office.

He could see Cas at the desk, a few small stacks of paper in front of him and a frown on his face. His shirtsleeves were pushed up to his elbow and his tie was loose around his neck, making him the picture-perfect rumpled professor. Dean stared for a moment longer, unable to look away, and then rapped his knuckle on the door frame.

Cas looked up and cocked an eyebrow.

He smiled at the intense look. Cas was in the zone. “Hey, babe. Who has the kids?”

“Mr. Winchester…” Cas rumbled, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. “You’re cutting it close. My office hours are almost over.”

Dean frowned at him, confused. That didn’t even remotely answer his question. What did he—

Oh…

Oh!

Blood rushed out of his brain and straight to his dick so quickly he felt a little lightheaded. He tripped forward and threw himself in the chair across from Cas so hard it squeaked in protest and scraped across the floor.

Dean cleared his throat, but the ball of nervous excitement stayed thick in his throat. “Uh, yeah… sorry.”

“Sorry?” Cas repeated. With a disappointed shake of his head, he pulled a paper out of the stack and put in on the top. “I have your test right here, Mr. Winchester, and I have to say… you _should_ be sorry.”

Dean knew that never in a million years would Cas be this much of an asshole to his students, but oh my god, was it turning him on like nothing else. “I’m sorry Professor Novak. I tried.”

“You did?” He flipped it around and turned it to face Dean. He leaned forward to peak, and surely enough, Dean’s name was written on top and the entire page was full of red marks. “It looks to me like you didn’t study at all. This seems to be a pattern with you if your grades are anything to go by.”

Fuck, he needed to undo a button or something. “I really tried, Sir. Am… am I going to be able to pass your class?”

Cas sighed, steepling his fingers and readying himself to deliver the news. “Even if you get an A on the final, you won’t be passing my class. If you had come to me at the beginning of the semester, after your first F, I might have been able to help. Now, it’s simply too late.”

He was starting to feel tingly in anticipation. “I need to pass this class, Professor. Without it, I won't get my… uh… engineering degree.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do anything. My hands are tied.”

“Do you offer extra credit?”

Cas shook his head. “The syllabus clearly states that I don’t. As I said, there’s nothing I can do for you.”

“Please, Professor. There has to be _something_ I can do to pass your class. Anything! If I don’t at least get a C I won’t graduate!”

Cas got up and straightened his stack of papers before walking around the desk, leaning his hip against the dark wood. Dean knew he was fit and lightly muscled beneath his clothes, but seeing his biceps flexing as he crossed his arms, and the way his wide shoulders seemed to expand as he took a deep breath was something else. “Listen, Mr. Winchester… I don’t know what you expect me to do for you. Your best option is taking the D and then trying again next semester.”

_Taking the D._ Dean snorted loudly, earning himself a glare from Cas. Of _course,_ he’d say that. He shook his head and let himself get back into the scenario. “I can’t afford to take this class again, Professor. There has to be _something_ I can do to pass.”

“This is something you should have come to me for at the beginning of the semester. But you didn’t, and that proves to me that you don’t take my class seriously. Why should I help you now?”

“Well, I—” he gulped and fiddled with his collar. With a shaky hand, he reached out and trailed a finger down Cas’s thigh. “I really need to pass your class. I’ll do _anything_.”

He glanced up at Cas nervously, ready to be told to get the hell out of his office, but Cas just stared at him blankly, that damn eyebrow cocked. “Considering your performance in class so far, how can I be sure what you’re offering will be any better?”

His touch on Cas’s thigh turned into a hard grip around the thick muscle and he could feel Cas flex underneath his palm. “Please, Professor. I—”

“Careful, Dean,” Cas warned, sending shivers down his spine at the way he growled Dean’s name. “You wouldn’t want anyone overhearing you offering yourself to your professor like this, would you?”

He gulped and lowered his head. “No.”

“Good. Now, how can I be sure what you’re offering me is worth a passing grade?” There was a twinkle in his eye as he looked down at Dean, that damn eyebrow still cocked and looking like he was ready to gobble him up. Dean was _more_ than onboard with that.

“I’ll try my hardest. I promise.”

Cas just shook his head. “Where was this motivation all semester? Do you do this to all your professors? Flunk the class and offer them sex?”

He shook his head, cheeks pinkening with shame. “I’m sorry, Professor.”

Cas’s strong hand gripped his and dragged it up his thigh to cover his crotch. His dick was half-hard against his palm, and Dean let out a relieved breath. Cas’s narrow-eyed gaze was intense as he looked down at him. “I’m giving you one chance. Show me that you deserve it, and I might just let you leave my office with a B.”

He was nodding before Cas even finished his sentence. “Thank you, Professor. I really—”

“Bend over the desk. I want to see you.”

He scrambled to comply, standing up and laying his torso across the desk, hoping Cas approved of the curve of his ass. He could feel Cas behind him, watching, assessing. Socked feet shuffled closer, and Dean jumped at the sensation of a hand cupping his ass. His jeans were rough against Cas’s fingers, making an audible rasp in the quiet office as he traced the shape of his ass. He shifted his feet further apart and arched his back for him, and to his delight, Cas hummed in appreciation.

With sure hands, Cas pulled his hips back, pushing Dean’s ass into his crotch so he’d have enough room to reach around and undo his buckles. With those out of the way, nothing stopped him from pulling his pants down and letting them pool around his ankles. His boxers followed quickly and Dean was ordered to step out of his clothes. Cas kicked them out of the way and immediately put his hands back on Dean’s bare ass.

His cock was hard between his legs, and he ached to touch it, but Cas was the one who made the rules, and he hadn’t told Dean to touch himself yet.

“Spread your legs for me, Winchester.”

Dean shivered at the sound of his command and complied, shifting his legs apart until Cas could fit between them. The hands that had been resting on his ass gripped both cheeks and pulled them apart. He stood there, breath held, as Cas looked at him. It went on for what felt like hours, and by the time Cas released his cheeks and stepped away, he was flushed and panting from a mixture of embarrassment and arousal.

He watched as Cas walked around his desk and began rifling through his drawers, searching for something. The longer he stood there, ass in the air and bent over the desk, the more he felt like he was at Cas’s mercy. It made him want to do whatever Cas told him to do, to obey him so that Cas would have his way with him. A little bottle of lube was pulled from the bottom drawer, and finally, he was moving back to stand behind him.

“Stay quiet.” And that was all the warning he got before he heard the snick of the lube opening and felt a cool drizzle of liquid down his crack. He couldn’t help but flinch at the sensation, but Cas didn’t seem to care.

Cas worked slowly, gently bringing a slick finger to his entrance and rubbing it in circles, working the muscle as Dean clenched at the sensation. He arched his back, pressing his chest and stomach into the desktop, hoping to entice Cas into moving on, but Cas continued his maddeningly slow pace. Circling and pressing just hard enough for his hole to give just a little, before pulling back and circling some more. His breath was coming fast with anticipation, and his whine of frustration was enough for Cas to stop all movement.

“Have you changed your mind? Do you not want to pass my class after all?”

“I do!” Dean practically yelled. “Please, Professor. I’m ready for your finger.”

Cas harrumphed, and after putting a bit more lube on his finger he _finally_ slipped the tip into his ass. The stretch burned and his shoulders tensed and he felt hot all over, but he pushed against it, knowing that in a few moments his body would relax. Cas held his finger there for a few seconds before he pulled out and pushed back in, never venturing past his first knuckle. Cas continued to toy with his hole, pushing in and out, pulling gently at his rim until sweat began to bead on Dean’s forehead.

He moved torturously slow as he pushed in further, his finger getting thicker as he worked it in. Dean’s thighs flexed almost to the point of cramping in an effort to keep still. He wanted to push back and take Cas’s finger even deeper, to force the man to move and _finally_ getting around to fucking him, but Cas had told him not to move and he was going to try his darndest to listen.

Cas froze once his finger was pushed all the way in and waited a few moments for Dean to stop his rhythmic clenching, but god, it felt so good he didn’t want to stop. Every time he clamped down hard on Cas’s finger, it rubbed against his walls, sending sparks of electricity up his spine and spurring him on.

Finally having had enough, Cas pulled his finger out, eliciting a loud moan from Dean. “Fuck.”

“Quiet, Mr. Winchester.”

He gulped, trying to comply, but Cas chose that moment to push back into him, crooking his finger and brushing against his prostate. He hissed at the sensation, strange and always a little sensitive until he was more warmed up, but the hints of pleasure lurking beneath the surface were undeniable. Cas started a random pattern of brushing over that spot, driving him crazy with sensation, and by the time pleasure was coursing through his body like lightning, he was tense and whimpering like a two-dollar whore.

“Quiet, Dean. I share this floor with other professors. We can have them hear us, can we?”

But he was too far gone to care. When Cas’s finger hit Dean’s prostate dead-on, he let out a loud shout and jerked forward, pushing his hips into the desk and finally giving his dick something to rub against. All this and Cas was still only using a single finger.

“If you can't be quiet, you need to leave,” he growled out, pulling his finger free of Dean's tight heat. “Do you understand?”

He nodded against the desk, panting and fogging up the glossy wood. “Sorry, Professor. I’ll be quiet.”

Once again, a thick finger pressed into him. He tensed around it and whimpered, nearly biting his tongue hard enough to bleed in an effort to stop from crying out. Almost as if he was purposely trying to make Dean scream, he rubbed over his prostate again and pushed at it ever so lightly. He couldn’t hold back his wail and it echoed through the house.

“I said, quiet!” _SMACK._

Dean jerked forward at the blow and yelped. A second later, the sting of pain on his asscheek set in and he clenched down hard on Cas’s finger. The next thing Dean knew, the finger disappeared and he was being pulled up off the desk. Through a fog of pleasure, Cas’s eyes swam into view. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I don’t know why I did that! I shouldn’t have—”

Dean took a second to stare at him, slack-jawed and red-faced, before pulling him forward into an aggressive kiss. It was all teeth and tongue and shifting bodies as he ground his cock against Cas’s thigh, smearing precome into the fabric of his trousers. Cas was powerless to resist. He bit and nipped at Cas’s lips until the man pulled away to breathe, then Dean moved on to Cas’s neck, loving the scrape of starched cotton on his cheek.

“Dean!” Cas moaned, his hands tightened on Dean’s biceps. “I didn’t hurt you?”

He pulled away long enough to lock eyes with Cas. “You better do it again.” And then he spun around and braced himself against the desk. “That all you got, Professor Novak?”

A strong hand gripped the back of his neck and pushed his face flush against the desk. “We’ll talk about that later, but for now…” He cleared his throat. “This is your last chance to back out, Mr. Winchester.”

“Please,” he whispered, cheek smushed into the cool wood.

Cas pressed a second finger in, achingly slow, and Dean was so turned on that the burn instantly turned to pleasure and fizzled through his body. Cas paused to give him a moment to adjust, but Dean just shifted and let his slick fingers sink even deeper. Cas must have understood because he began a smooth rhythm of shallow thrusts, pushing and pulling and scissoring them open while Dean could do nothing more than grip the desk tightly and whimper at the sensation. His body offered no resistance to Cas, and opened up easily. After what felt like hours, Cas pulled his fingers free and Dean heard the click of the lube being opened. Cas smeared the slick oil on his hole and pushed back in, coating his insides with a layer of it. Finally, he pulled away and Dean could hear the clink of Cas’s belt and then his zipper.

He gulped and stayed still as a rock as Cas shifted around behind him and lined himself up. “Perhaps I need to rethink my policy on extra credit...” Without waiting for a response, he pushed into Dean, slowly but without respite. Dean let out a loud groan scrambled to grip the edge of the desk, scattering Cas’s neatly stacked quizzes.

“You’re doing so well, Dean.”

Dean whined at the praise, and pushed up to his toes to give Cas a better angle. The extra inch of height worked, and Cas slipped all the way in with one smooth glide. Dean groaned and reached back to grab Cas’s clothed thigh, willing himself to relax into the stretch that was so much more intense than Cas’s fingers. He was burning up inside, he felt like a bowstring ready to snap. Cas placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, and suddenly he was able to relax. Shoulders first, then his neck, and by the time his breathing calmed, he was a boneless puddle on the desk.

Cas started thrusting slowly, pulling out and pushing back in with a fluid roll of his hips. He couldn’t count how many times Cas’s hips met his ass before he began to pick up his pace, and soon he was pounding into him, balls slapping against Dean’s taint. Through the buzzing in his ears, he could hear himself making truly embarrassing noises: punched-out groans and high-pitched mewls every time the head of Cas’s cock brushed over his prostate. He was sweaty and barely able to suck in a breath as his husband worked him over, thrusting and grinding, tugging at his hair that Dean didn’t even realize Cas had grabbed.

Cas didn’t know where to keep his hands. They went from his hair to his shoulders, both hands doing most of the work as they gripped him hard and shoved Dean back onto his dick, but they soon started drifting down his chest, over his stomach, gripping his hips. It felt like Cas couldn’t get enough of Dean, so his hands continued to wander, leaving shivers in their wake. Dean was on fire, it seemed. Sensations were coming at him from everywhere. Pebbled nipples rubbing against the cold desk, the warmth of Cas’s hands where he gripped Dean, and the catch of Cas’s cock as it pulled nearly all the way out before slamming in mercilessly. Already, his dick was dripping with arousal.

Cas let loose a low groan. “Fuck, sweetheart. You’re being so good for me…”

Cas’s tie brushed lightly down his back, sending goosebumps everywhere as he bent over and fucked Dean in earnest. He was letting out small huffs of breath and low moans now. The sounds did amazing things to Dean’s dick, and he ached to reach down to stroke himself but to do that he’d have to let go of the desk, and that solid piece of wood was the only thing that was keeping him from falling apart.

And fuck, he stopped being Professor Novak ages ago, and now it was just Cas with his damn argyle socks and perpetual bedhead, and he was fucking the life out of Dean. A foot nudged his legs wider, and suddenly the angle changed. Dean knew he’d never be able to come on Cas’s cock alone, but it was becoming a close thing.

As if he could read Dean’s mind, Cas reached into the small space between his hips and the desk and gripped his cock. Dean let out a noise loud enough to rival a porn star and rocked back against Cas’s thrusts in an attempt to urge him faster, harder, but Cas’s pace remained unchanged, and continued to time his thrusts with his strokes. In, up. Out, down. He was spiraling closer and closer to the edge, his hole clenching around Cas’s cock so hard that there was no way Cas wasn’t just as close as he was.

With Cas stroking his cock and pounding away at his ass, he was hurtling towards orgasm.

Suddenly, the rhythm to his strokes was gone and Cas was jacking him off furiously, proving just how close to the edge he was. He threw his head back and panted for breath, feeling lightheaded and like he was about to fly out of his skin. “Cas!”

“Fuck,” Cas hissed into his neck, licking a stripe up to his ear. “You’re so tight!”

Dean groaned in response. “Shit, Cas. I’m gonna—”

Cas bit the shell of his ear and that was it. Dean screamed and shot his load all over the front of Cas’s desk. Cas stroked him through it, his own thrusts stuttering and finally stilling on his deepest thrust yet. He groaned through his orgasm, hips stuttering and cock pulsing as he spilled inside of Dean.

Dean shied away from Cas’s hand, too sensitive for even a light touch, and put his shaking arms to use pushing up off the desk. His husband pulled out as he stood, and Dean could feel a trickle of cum going down his thigh. Uncaring, he turned and pulled Cas into a kiss.

They panted into each other's mouths, tongues tangling, and Cas shuffled backwards, pulling Dean along to the couch. He sat first, pulling Dean on top of him, and they settled into the loveseat together. They were sticky and damp with sweat, but neither cared as they clung to each other, both coming down from their high. He could sleep there, Dean thought, with Cas’s hand in his hair and his head pillowed on his chest. And god, he was tired enough to do it. He had never been one to fall asleep after sex, but with Cas’s heartbeat playing in Dean’s ear and the warmth of his chest keeping Dean comfortable, it was a close thing.

“Forget the B. I’m giving you an A.”

Dean huffed out a laugh and peered up at him. “I forgot about that. Was it okay for you?”

“I think it helped acting like an ass. Made it feel like I wasn’t actually trading sex for a good grade.”

“Thank you for doing this for me, babe. You’re amazing. Best anniversary we’ve had yet.”

“Better than our first anniversary?”

He wracked his brain, trying to remember what they had done. “The camping trip we took with Claire? Yeah, definitely better than that one.”

“I thought it was fun.”

“Well, _you_ weren’t the one who broke out in hives. I hate poison oak.”

“Yes, and it hates you right back. What about last year?”

“The weekend away in La Jolla? Ok, that one was pretty awesome. Well, this one is definitely in the top three.”

Cas snorted. “High praise.”

“Want to do a road trip next year? Maybe by then we can convince Sam to take the kids for a week. Hell, maybe my mom would do it.”

“As long as you’re the one to plan it.”

“I’ll plan the shit out of it, babe.”

They lapsed into silence, completely comfortable squished together on the too-small couch. Something niggled at the back of his mind, something important, but it remained out of reach. He shook his head, deciding it must not have been that important after all, and went back to basking in the warmth of Cas’s arms. It was so rare that they could just cuddle like this in peace and quiet, uninterrupted by their responsibilities. Everything was so—

“Oh, fuck! Where are the kids?”

Cas started laughing, and once Dean joined in, they couldn’t stop for quite a while. Dean had never been a fan of Thursdays, seeing them only as a prelude to Friday, but today was easily the best Thursday he’s ever had.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who comments! They mean the world to me!


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